Underground
by Carol
Summary: A group of assassins are out to kill the under-funded six one by one, forcing the agents into hiding. Will they survive the hits and figure out the mastermind behind the attacks?
1. Teaser

Summary: A group of assassins are out to kill the under-funded six one by one, forcing the agents into hiding. Will they survive the hits and figure out the mastermind behind the attacks?

Rating: PG-13 for violence

Spoilers: Enemy of my Enemy and The New Stuff

Timeline: This story takes place in season three after the events of The New Stuff

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just seem to torture them a lot

Note: So I tried to write this one as close to an actual episode as possible, meaning I separated it into four acts, teaser, tag, etc. It was quite a challenge, and I must say I really enjoyed myself. As you will see at the end, a huge plot bunny tapped me on the shoulder while writing this thing. It was totally unexpected and unplanned, but nevertheless, it's in there. Yes, I will write a sequel to this one. And yes, Devil's Silver 10 will be out soon. Enjoy this one, folks!

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Underground

By Carol M.

TEASER

The six strangers entered a small dimly lit room in the back of the ancient abandoned warehouse. In the center of the room was a large round table with six nametags sitting in front of the six cheap foldout chairs that had been set out. The men each took a seat and gazed at one another curiously. 

They were a diverse group, ranging in age from 20 to 65 years olds. A few were dressed in perfectly tailored suits while others were dressed in T-shirts and jeans. Some were blonde, some were brunettes and there was even a redhead. All in all, a very distinct group of assassins.

They all looked up as a young blonde gentleman dressed in a fine Armani suit stepped into the room carrying a black leather briefcase. "Good morning, gentleman. I see you had no problems finding the place," said the man. "I trust you all know what you're doing here."

All the men nodded.

"Good. If you'll look in front of you, you'll see that we have given you new names. When referring to yourself or each other, please use these code names. We don't want security comprised," said the man.

The men all looked at the nametags in front of them. Mr. Pacino, Mr. De Niro, Mr. Cruise, Mr. Depp, Mr. Costner, and Mr. Hanks.

"You can call me Mr. Ventresca," said the man as he pulled a small speaker receiver out of his briefcase. He set it in the middle of the table. "If you gentlemen will turn your attention to the middle of table, you will be given further instruction."

The men looked curiously at the speaker and then jumped when Mr. Ventresca's cell phone rang. He quickly answered it. "Yes sir. All here," he said as he pressed a button on his cell phone. "Ready, sir."

"Good morning, gentleman. This is your employer, Mr. Pitt," came the obviously fake mechanical voice from the speaker. "I'm pleased to find out that you accepted my generous offer. You are all professional hit man in your own right, and I wanted the best for this little job I have in mind. Mr. Ventresca, if you would hand out the folders."

Mr. Ventresca took a stack of folders out of his briefcase and set one in front of each of the men.

Static blared from the speaker and then Mr. Pitt started to speak again. "These folders contain pictures and personal information about each of your targets. I want them all taken out on Friday at 12 noon. They are to be taken out simultaneously to avoid any kind of warning in case one of them gets away. That gives you three days to assess your targets. Be extremely careful when dealing with these people, they have a propensity for foiling even the most secretive of plans. Once you have completed your assignments, you will be contacted to receive your payment. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes," said all the men.

"Excellent," came Mr. Pitt's voice from the speaker. "Good luck with the mission. You're going to need it." The speaker crackled for a moment and then went dead.

"Open you're folders, gentlemen," said Mr. Ventresca.

The six men all flipped open their folders and were each greeted with an 8X10 color portrait of their targets. They glanced through the photos and background information and then looked back up at Mr. Ventresca.

"I trust there won't be any problems?" asked Mr. Ventresca.

The men all shook their heads. 

"Very well. That will be all, gentlemen," said Mr. Ventresca.

The men slowly got to their feet and picked up their folders. One by one they shuffled out of the room, all giving one another strange glances.

Mr. Ventresca's cell phone rang a minute after the room was clear. 

"Any problems I should know about?" came Mr. Pitt's voice from the phone.

"No sir, everything should go smoothly," said Mr. Ventresca.

"I'm counting on it," said Mr. Pitt. Then the line went dead. 

Mr. Ventresca reached into his briefcase and pulled out his own folder, containing all the information given to the assassins. He sat down at the table and began flipping through the photographs of the targets. Albert Eberts, Claire Keeply, Charles Borden, Alexandra Monroe, Robert A. Hobbes and Darien G. Fawkes. In four days, they would all be a memory.

TBC in ACT I


	2. ACT I

ACT I

"TGIF," shouted Darien happily as he got out of his car and spotted Bobby from across the Agency parking lot. "No school tomorrow," he said as he jogged over to his partner.

Bobby got out of his van and rolled his eyes. "Espionage never sleeps, my friend. In this business, a day off is a liability."

"Oh come on, man. We've been working hard. We deserve a nice quiet weekend of rest and relaxation," said Darien.

"Sun and sand?" offered Bobby as the pair walked inside the Agency.

"Hot chicks and margaritas?" said Darien.

"Do we invite the Keep?" asked Bobby.

"What about Alex?" said Darien as the pair got on the elevator.

"And Eberts?" said Bobby.

The pair looked at one another and simultaneously shook their heads. "Naw," they both said as they stepped off the elevator. 

"What are you two so happy about?" asked Alex as she saw them get off the elevator on her way to the Official's office.

"Nothing," said Darien innocently. "Just a couple of hot dates."

Alex nodded in disbelief. "I'm sure."

Bobby patted Alex on the back. "You gotta lighten up a little, Monroe. It's almost the weekend for crying out loud. You got any plans?" he asked curiously as the trio strolled towards the Official's office.

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Alex as she knocked on the Official's door.

"So what are you doing?" asked Darien.

"That's classified," said Alex as the trio walked into the Official's and sat down in the three chairs set out in front of his desk.

"Good morning," said Eberts in a pleasant tone from his standing position next to the Official's desk.

"Hey Ebes, what's up, man?" said Darien.

The Official glanced up from a stack of folders and gave the three agents a huge smile. "Happy Friday, kiddies. We've got assassins to hunt."

"Assassins?" asked Darien in confusion.

"Assassins," said Bobby casually.

"Assassins," said Alex in disbelief.

"Assassins," said the Official firmly. He glanced up at Eberts and motioned towards the stack of folders. "Eberts."

Eberts diligently picked up the folders and handed a stack of six to Darien, Bobby and Alex. The trio began looking through the folders, taking note of the pictures inside and the fluorescent pink paper everything seemed to be printed on.

Darien held up one of the pink pages in confusion. "I'm sorry, I didn't know this was kindergarten," he said sarcastically.

Eberts frowned. "I was able to get several reams of colorful paper at a discount price, thus saving the Agency a vast amount of money."

Darien glanced at Bobby and the pair rolled their eyes. "Something tells me we aren't going to be seeing that money in our Christmas bonuses."

"Enough Fawkes," said the Official in irritation.

"Sorry, sir," said Darien apologetically.

Alex, who had been busy looking through the folders, let out a small whistle of approval. "James Pitney, Robert Blair, Daniel Ketterer, Chip Sinclaire, William Ray and Ivan Gatewood. Not everyday you see a list like that," she said.

Darien raised his hand. "Excuse me, can someone clue me in here?"

"These six guys are thought to be some of the best assassins in the world, Fawkes," answered Bobby.

"Oh, interesting," said Darien casually.

Alex spoke up. "These six guys by themselves are a force to be reckoned with. What are they doing all together here?" she asked as she looked up at the Official.

"We're not sure. They've been spotted by a variety of sources all over San Diego the past couple of days," answered the Official.

"Any idea what they're doing here, chief?" asked Bobby.

The Official smiled. "That's what you three are going to find out."

"Nice," said Darien. "Break up a big bad guy convention."

"Exactly," said the Official. "Good luck, men."

Alex cleared her throat loudly.

"And ladies," added the Official.

Alex nodded in approval and stood up. Bobby and Darien did the same and followed Alex out the door.

"So where do we start?" asked Darien.

"Contacts, Fawkes, it's all about contacts," said Bobby.

"Hmm interesting," said Darien as he stepped to the elevator and was nearly run over by Claire, who was pushing out a cart loaded with boxes. "Whoa, what are you moving out or something?"

"Hey guys," said Claire pleasantly as she pushed the cart fully out of the elevator. "New office equipment for Eberts and the Official," she said as she pointed to a large printer box and a laptop computer box. "And I received another beautiful K-21 workstation thanks to Alex," she said with a large appreciative smile as she glanced at the agent.

Alex smiled. "Anything I can do for the team."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. The Keep gets two computers, but I can't even get one new van?" asked Bobby in an annoyed tone.

"We've been over this before, Bobby. The van is perfect for the image you're trying to uphold," said Alex.

"And what image would that be, homeless bag lady?" offered Darien.

"Ha ha," said Alex.

Claire cleared her throat. "Well, I really should get this stuff to Eberts and the Official so I can get back downstairs to set up my new computer," she interrupted in an excited tone. "I'll see you all later," she said as she began wheeling the cart down the hall.

"See ya, Keep," said Bobby.

Alex and Darien both waved after her.

"Okay, back to business here, guys," said Darien as the trio stepped into the elevator. "How are we getting these guys?"

"Hobbesnet," answered Bobby.

"Monroe's Monitors," answered Alex.

"Monroe's Monitors?" said Darien with a raised eyebrow. "That's just lame, Alex."

"Hey, your partner was the one that came up with the name," said Alex, glancing at Bobby.

"Anyway," said Bobby pointedly, trying to skirt the issue. "I say we scout out some contacts and see what we can come up with."

"Sounds like a plan," said Alex as she glanced at her watch. "It's 11:30 right now. What do you say we meet back here around two and discuss our next move," she said as the elevator arrived at the ground floor and the trio stepped out.

Darien gave her the thumbs up sign. "Perfect. That okay with you, Hobbesy?" he asked as the three agents walked out of the Agency into the parking lot.

"Sounds good," said Bobby.

"Good luck," said Alex. "You're gonna need it," she added under breath as she headed to her Corvette.

"What was that?" shouted Darien after her.

"Nothing," said Alex innocently as she got into her car and drove away.

"No confidence whatsoever," said Bobby as he and Darien headed towards Golda.

"That's okay, we'll show her up, my friend. The Official will be showering us with bonuses," said Darien as the pair got in the van.

"Don't hold your breath, Fawkes," said Bobby as he started the van.

Darien smiled and looked out the window as Bobby pulled onto the street. "So where we going first?"

"We're gonna pay my old CIA friend, Mitch Jones, a visit. He knows everything there is to know about murder and mayhem. If something's going down, he'll know about it," said Bobby absently as he glanced out the window.

Darien picked up on his partner's lack of concentration. "Something wrong, man?"

"I think we're being followed," he answered matter of factly. "In fact, the last couple of days I've been getting a funny feeling that someone was watching me. What about you? Anything out of the ordinary?" asked Bobby as he quickly turned a corner.

Darien nodded. "Well now that you mention it, there was an incident in my apartment building last night," he said mysteriously.

"What kind of incident?" asked Bobby as he peered at the side mirror.

"There was this drunk stripper on my stairwell. She kept pounding on my door thinking I was some guy named Raoul," said Darien.

"Fawkes, I'm serious," said Bobby as he turned another corner. "I think we lost em," he added after another couple of seconds.

"Nothing like a little grade A Bobby Hobbes paranoia to get me through my Friday," said Darien.

"May I remind you that my paranoia has saved your punk ass on more than one occasion, my friend," said Bobby.

Darien nodded. "You're right, okay, I apologize. Now let's go see this Jones guy," said Darien.

"Already on it, Fawkesy," said Bobby as he turned another corner.

**

Claire glanced at her watch as she inserted the startup disk in the computer. 11:59. Another hour until her lunch break. She watched the computer load the program on the screen as her stomach began to rumble loudly. She got out of her chair and walked to the refrigerator to see if there was any leftover Chinese.

"Yes," she whispered when she found a carton of fried rice. She was about to search for a fork when her new computer beeped loudly. She glanced at it curiously and suddenly the computer exploded into a huge fireball, gutting out a huge portion of the Keep and sending Claire flying through the air. She crashed against one of the brick walls and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, covered in glass, soot and ceiling.

**

Eberts set his sandwich down on the Official's desk and gave his boss a worried glance. "Sir, did you hear that?"

The Official put down his salad and nodded. "Sounded like it came from the Keep," he said as he stood up from his chair. "We should see if Claire's …

But the Official never finished the sentence. The printer and computer that Claire had delivered, which were both sitting in the corner of the office still in their boxes, beeped and then erupted in another huge explosion. Eberts was swept over the Official's desk, and the Official was smashed against the wall from the force of the blast, leaving the pair unmoving on the cheap linoleum floor.

**

Alex had noticed the silver Sedan following her almost immediately after pulling out of the Agency parking lot. She had decided to take a driving tour of the country roads of San Diego to try and draw him out. She had been driving for nearly twenty minutes when she heard a gunshot ring out from behind her. She pulled out her gun just as another shot was fired, this one hitting her tire. She lost control of the car and crashed into a ditch on the side of the road. Her head bashed against the stirring wheel, knocking her into semi-unconscious daze.

The next thing she knew, she was being forcefully manhandled out of the car. Then a rain of blows came out of nowhere, hitting her in the face, the chest and the stomach. She tried to clear her head, but the pain from the blows was sending her even closer to total unconsciousness. She managed one hard kick to the groin of the bleary form of the young man attacking her, which caused the man to groan and double over in pain. She grasped his shoulders and then bashed his head against her car as hard as she could. The man fell to the ground in unconsciousness and Alex quickly joined him.

**

"Hobbes, um, I think somebody might be following us," said Darien as he peered out his window.

"What kind of car?" asked Bobby.

"Black SUV," said Darien.

"Damn it," said Bobby as he sped up the van. He was about to turn a corner when another car sped out of the side street, blocking their path. Bobby slammed on the breaks and avoided hitting the other car by an inch. "Aw crap, Fawkes, that's the same car that was following us before."

"Were boxed in," said Darien in a panic as he noticed the SUV coming up right behind them.

They both stared in a panic as the men driving both cars got out with machine guns tucked in their arms, aiming the guns straight at the van. "Ah hell, Fawkes, that's them," Bobby yelled as went for his gun. Darien blindly reached out and let the quicksilver flow, trying to turn everything in sight invisible to do something to protect them from the guns. But they were both too late. 

"Aw cra…" Darien's scream was cut off as the loud explosions of bullets started to hit the van, effectively knocking away all the quicksilver Darien had produced.

The bullets continued for nearly a minute, turning Golda into something resembling Swiss cheese. Then there was an eerie silence, which convinced the assassins that their job was complete. They each got back in their cars and sped off, leaving the mangled van deserted on the side of the road.

TBC in ACT II


	3. ACT II

ACT II

Bobby groaned as he sat up, crunching his face painfully against broken glass and metal. He cautiously popped his head up to what was left of the windshield and sighed in relief when he realized the machine gun toting men were gone. He ran his hands over his body, trying to determine if he had been hit. There were a few cuts from glass but other than that, he appeared to be uninjured. He sighed in relief and glanced over at his partner. "Fawkes, you okay, buddy?"

Darien moaned and slowly sat up, panting in pain. "Hobbes," he whispered between breaths.

"Fawkes, you okay?" asked Bobby with concern as he took in Darien's sweaty, pale face. "You got any holes in you?"

Darien stretched up into a full sitting position. "I don't know I…ahhhhhh," he screamed as a sharp pain tore through his stomach. His hand pressed against the area and came away covered in blood. He held it out in horror towards Bobby. "Hobbes, I'm hit, man, I'm hit," he yelled out in fear.

"Damn it!" shouted Bobby as he scooted next to his partner and tried to survey the damage. He pulled away Darien's shirt and jacket and swore under his breath when he saw a large bloody wound on Darien's abdomen. "Fawkes, oh god. We gotta get you to a hospital," said Bobby as he scooted back behind the wheel and tried to start the van. A cloud of smoke exploded from the engine, but nothing else happened. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, smacking his hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

He glanced at Darien's sweaty face and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Just hang on, buddy, I'll be right back," he said as he got out of the van. He dashed into the street, praying that a car would come along. Less than a minute later, a white station wagon appeared on the horizon, and Bobby nearly kissed the street in relief. He stepped into the middle of the road with his badge out and his gun aimed at the car.

The station wagon skidded to a stop and Bobby quickly ran to the driver's side window, eyeing the middle-aged woman driver. "I need your car ma'am, this is an emergency," said Bobby firmly. The woman eyed the blood on Bobby's clothes and nodded her head. She quickly grabbed her purse and got out of the car.

Bobby dashed back to the van and opened the passenger's side door. "We gotta get out of here, Fawkes," he said in a gentle tone as he started pulling Darien out of the van.

"I can't," wheezed Darien as he gasped for breath.

"Sure you can, buddy," said Bobby as he got Darien fully out of the van and took most of his weight. He pointed at the station wagon. "We just gotta get right over there," he said as he started dragging Darien towards the car.

Darien moaned in pain and nearly fell to the ground.

"Whoa, whoa, I got ya," said Bobby as he got a better grip on his partner.

The owner of the station wagon eyed the pair in fear. "Do you need me to call for help?" she asked as she reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone.

Bobby shook his head as he managed to get Darien in the car. "No thanks, ma'am, we got it covered. Uncle Sam will pay for your car, don't worry," he shouted as he ran to the driver's side and got in. He removed his cell phone from his jacket and then quickly pressed the piece of clothing firmly against Darien's stomach, eliciting a panting scream from his partner. "Easy, easy, it's okay. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay," Bobby whispered over and over again as he started the car and sped off down the street.

He kept glancing over at Darien as he drove, scared to death for his partner. The sound of his cell phone ringing sobered him out of his thoughts. He reached to his side and quickly answered it, thankful that the phone hadn't been damaged in the attack. "Hobbes," he screamed into the phone.

"Code Omega," said the Official urgently.

"Sir, Fawkes has been shot, I need to get him to a hospital," said Bobby as he reached over to Darien and pressed the jacket tighter against his body, causing Darien to groan loudly in pain.

"The Agency is under attack, Hobbes. We have to evacuate to the second location. The hospitals are too dangerous," said the Official as he glanced over at Claire and Eberts from his standing position on the ground floor of the Agency. Claire's right arm was folded protectively against her chest and her face was covered in cuts and bruises. Eberts was holding his hand against his back, which had been badly bruised in the explosion. "We're leaving right now," he continued as he pressed a hand against a large bruise on his forehead, which caused him to wince in pain.

"Is everyone okay?" asked Bobby with concern.

"There were bombs in the equipment delivered this morning. Claire has a broken arm and extensive cuts and bruises. Eberts and I suffered minor injuries. I haven't been able to get a hold of Monroe," said the Official grimly.

"I'm sure she's okay, chief. She's tough," said Bobby reassuringly as he glanced over at Darien. Darien' eyes were threatening to close. Bobby reached his hand out and slapped Darien's cheek lightly. "Stay with me, buddy," he yelled firmly. Bobby turned his attention back to the phone. "Chief, Fawkes is really bad, I don't know if he's going to make it."

"Just bring him to the new base. You know where it is. We'll be waiting with supplies to treat him," answered the Official.

Bobby nodded even though the Official couldn't see him. "Okay, chief. See you soon," he said as he hung up the phone.

Darien whimpered and looked at Bobby. "What the hell's going on?" he whispered, trying to catch his breath. 

"I think our six assassin friends have declared war on Fish and Game, Fawkes. Our two shooters were none other than James Pitney and Chip Sinclaire. We've got to get out of the line of fire," said Bobby as he headed for the highway.

"Where are we going?" asked Darien.

"A safe house of sorts. A designated government facility built specifically for instances like this," answered Bobby.

Darien nodded and stretched out his slender body, trying to ignore the burning ache of agony in his belly. "Hobbes, I'm scared," he confessed in a whisper.

Bobby looked over at his partner and gave him a reassuring smile. "I won't let you die, my friend, I promise you. Bobby Hobbes has got your back."

"Thanks, partner," said Darien with an appreciative glance. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped against the window.

"Damn it, Fawkes" cursed Bobby. He pushed his foot down on the gas even harder, desperate to get Darien some help.

**

Alex regained consciousness suddenly, nearly bashing her head against her car. She glanced to her right and breathed a silent thank you that her assailant was still unconscious. In fact, judging from the blood running down the back of his head, he would be out for some time. It was then that she realized who the man was. Ivan Gatewood. "Son of a bitch," she said in realization.

She groaned in pain and stood up, reaching into her pocket to pull out a pair of handcuffs. She grabbed Ivan and fastened his arm to the stirring wheel of her car. Then she slowly started walking around her car, trying to assess the damage.

Five minutes and a lot of swearing later, she quickly determined that her car was undrivable. She also realized that she had lost her cell phone. She glanced up at her assailant's Sedan and quickly dashed over to it, looking for a phone. She peered inside the window and nodded in appreciation when she saw one sitting on the passenger's seat. She quickly opened the door and grabbed the phone, her fingers ready to dial the Agency's number before they even touched the keypad. Three rings later, she heard the gruff voice of the Official pick up. "This is him," he answered.

"Sir, this is Monroe. I was just nearly killed. I think the assassins we're hunting are actually hunting us," she said in a strangely calm voice.

"What?" he said in surprise. "Never mind that, just get to the second location now. We're all targets, and we need to get underground

"Sir, I've got the guy who tried to kill me and guess who it is? None other than Ivan Gatewood," said Alex in a smug tone.

She could tell the Official was smiling by the tone of his voice. "Excellent, Monroe. I'm glad you're okay. Get here as soon as you can. Make sure you're not tailed," said the Official.

"Not a problem," said Alex as she hung up the phone. She got into the driver's seat of the Sedan and started the engine, driving it next to her ditched Corvette. Then she got out of the car and ran to her cuffed prisoner, who was still dead to the world. She uncuffed him and dragged him into the passenger's side of the Sedan. She cuffed him to the door and then ran around to the driver's side, quickly getting in and shutting the door behind her. Then she sped off, leaving her totaled Corvette in a trail of dust.

**

Bobby skidded to a stop beside a black government-issue car outside the small concrete building that was out in the middle of nowhere. He quickly got out of the car and ran around to the other side to get Darien out of the passenger's seat. "Fawkes, we're here, buddy," he whispered into his partner's ear.

Darien moaned and opened his eyes, looking up at Bobby. "Where am I?" he whispered in a weak tone. 

"You're safe, Fawkes, you're safe. We're going to take care of you," he said in a reassuring tone as he reached under Darien's arm to lift him out of the car.

"Ahhhhh," screamed Darien in agony.

Bobby sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, battling tears of fear and frustration. It was then that he heard the sound of Claire's voice from behind him.

"How bad, Bobby?" asked Claire as she ran to the car and checked out Darien. She put her hand up to her mouth when she saw the amount of blood he had lost. "We have to get him inside now," she said firmly.

She turned to face Bobby and he noticed how bad she looked. Her right arm was in a sling, her face was covered in painful looking cuts and bruises and she was limping slightly with every step. "Keep, are you okay?" he asked in a soft voice.

Claire glanced at him and nodded. "I'll survive," she said.

"What's going on, how's Fawkes?" asked the Official as he stepped out from the building. Claire pointed into the car and the Official quickly took a peek, wincing slightly in sympathy as he saw the amount of pain Darien was in. He took one look at Bobby and quickly determined that he was about to drop from shock, pain and fear. The Official proceeded to grab Darien's arms and pull him out of the car, despite Darien's whimpering protests. He got him fully out of the car and then lifted him into his arms, surprised at how little the tall agent seemed to weigh. 

"You got him, chief?" asked Bobby as he followed the Official and Claire towards the doorway of the building.

"Yeah," said the Official as he entered the doorway to the building. The doorway opened onto a small hallway with an elevator at the end. Bobby pushed the down button and the group waited in silence for the door to open, the only sounds audible were the harsh pain-filled pants coming from Darien. The elevator opened a second later and the group clamored inside. Three floors down later, the door opened and Bobby was greeted with the sight of a large underground bunker. There were about 10 cots set out, along with computers, video monitors and medical supplies. Eberts was laying on one of the cots with an icepack pressed against his back. When he saw the group enter the room, he quickly got up. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked as the Official gently deposited Darien on one of the cots.

"Not right now, I need to examine him," answered Claire as she swept aside Darien's shirt and jacket to get a closer look at the bullet wound. She used his shirt to wipe some of the blood away to get a better look at the actual injury.

Darien reached his hand up and grabbed her uninjured arm to stop the exam. "Stop, please, it hurts," he pleaded.

Claire sighed in sympathy and ran a hand through her hair. "I know, Darien, but I have to do this," she said as she further explored the wound. She looked up at Bobby and motioned to Darien's side. "Can you help me turn him?" she asked.

Without a word, Bobby was at Darien's side. He gently rolled his partner so Claire could examine Darien's back.

"Bloody hell," said Claire in frustration when she didn't see an exit wound. "The bullet's still inside," she said grimly.

Bobby rolled Darien back and swore under his breath.

"What does that mean?" asked Darien in fear.

Claire put her good arm on her hip. "It means we're going to have to remove it with limited supplies."

Darien closed his eyes and swallowed. "Aw crap," he whispered.

"Sir, Ms. Monroe is here," said Eberts as he glanced at the monitor for the video camera outside. "It looks like she has someone with her," he added as he watched her struggle to get someone out of the silver Sedan she was driving.

"Hobbes, get out there and help her," said the Official as he stared down at Darien.

Bobby nodded and quickly got into the elevator.

Claire glanced up at the Official and then back down at Darien. "Sir, we really should take Darien to a hospital to do this."

"No," said the Official firmly.

"Why not?" asked Claire in anger.

"Because whoever planned this little hit thinks we're all dead," answered Eberts.

"What do you mean?" asked Claire.

"I called in a few favors," answered the Official. "The news should be reporting any minute that six government officials were killed this afternoon," he said as he stepped to one of the televisions and switched it on. They were greeted with portraits of themselves being flashed on the screen. The Official turned the volume up so they could hear the news report. "A little after noon today, six agents from a local San Diego intelligence agency were killed in what looks like an assassination attempt by unknown sources. Stay tuned for more on this breaking story."

"What good does that do us?" whispered Darien as the Official switched off the television

"Because we've got one of our so-called assassins," answered Bobby as he and Alex pulled a barely conscious man out of the elevator. "And something tells me you haven't been paid yet, am I right?" asked Bobby as he viciously shook the man.

"Nice," said Darien as he watched Bobby and Alex drag the man to one of the cots and cuff him down.

TBC in ACT III


	4. ACT III

ACT III

"I already told you, I don't know," shouted Ivan as he struggled against the handcuffs. "And if I did, what makes you think I would give up the information anyway?"

Bobby pulled out his gun and pressed it against Ivan's knee. "Oh I think you would. Assassins are known as the fraidy cats of the spy world. You're on the outside, killing random targets left and right, never on the front lines. You'll talk. Think of it this way, you help us and we'll help you."

"I ain't saying nothing!" shouted the man.

Bobby uncuffed the man from the bed and dragged him over to Darien's sleeping form. "You see that," he said as he put the man's face an inch from Darien's stomach. "You did that. That's my partner. If he dies, than you all die. Forget about prison, my friend, you're looking at the firing squad. Now what's it going to be?" he asked as he slammed the man back against the bed and cuffed him harshly to the bottom leg of the cot.

"All right, all right, fine," he shouted. "We were hired out. Me and five other guys."

Eberts stepped forward with a file folder filled with photos. "These men?" he asked as he flashed the pictures of James Pitney, Robert Blair, Daniel Ketterer, Chip Sinclaire and William Ray.

Ivan nodded. "Yeah, yeah, those are the guys. We don't know who our employer is. It was all by code name. I'm Mr. Depp and our boss went by the name of Mr. Pitt. There was this other guy who ran the show, Mr. Ventresca."

"Did you recognize him from anywhere?" asked Bobby.

"No," said Ivan.

Alex stepped forward, sitting on the cot next to Ivan with an icepack pressed against her head. "How were you to be paid?"

"They were going to contact us when they job was complete. That's all I know, I swear," said Ivan.

Bobby cocked an eyebrow in Alex's direction. "You thinking what I'm thinking, Monroe?"

Alex smiled. "Why yes Mr. Hobbes, I believe I am."

Bobby pressed his gun to Ivan's head. "When your illustrious heartthrob of a leader calls, you play it cool. You let it on that something's up and you're a dead man, you hear me,?" screamed Bobby.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, I got it," breathed Ivan in a panic.

Alex ran a hand down the man's cheek. "Yeah, cute stuff, you can lead us right to your fellow scumbags."

Ivan flinched away from her touch and lay back against the bed, sighing in anger.

"Alex, Bobby, we're ready," called Claire from the corner. Eberts was standing next to her, carrying a tray of freshly sterilized surgical tools.

Alex and Bobby both stood up and walked over to Darien, who had just woken up.

Claire stepped to him and ran a hand through his hair. "Darien, I can't remove the bullet because of my arm. Do you trust Alex to do it? I think she would have the steadiest hands here," she whispered gently.

Darien looked from Alex to Claire with fear-filled eyes. "Yeah," he whispered after several seconds.

"Okay," she said as she sat down on the floor next to the bed and grasped his hand with her good arm. "Alex, you need to wash your hands," she said in instruction.

Alex nodded and quickly walked over to a small sink in the corner of the room. She lathered her hands with soap and water and scrubbed for nearly a minute before rinsing them off. Eberts was waiting with a fresh pair of surgical gloves for her to put on.

The Official, who was sitting on one of the beds watching his agents, stood up and hovered over Darien's bed. "Are you sure you don't want me or Bobby or even Eberts to do this?" he asked as he took in Alex's nervous face.

Alex shook her head as she stepped next to Darien's side. "I can do it," she whispered with forced confidence.

"Let's get on with it already," said Bobby nervously as he sat down next to Darien's bed on the side opposite of Claire and grasped his partner's other hand.

"Ready," said Alex as she glanced at Claire for instruction.

"Okay, first you need to numb the area with an injection of Lidocaine," said Claire.

Eberts picked up a needle filled with the drug off the tray and handed it to Alex. Alex ejected the air bubbles and took a deep breath. Then she carefully injected several areas around the wound with the drug, trying to ignore Darien's pain-filled gasps.

"Easy, you're doing good, partner," coached Bobby as he felt Darien grasp his hand tighter.

Darien groaned. "Chief, if I survive this, then I want a new budget for bullet proof vests," he tried to say in a joking tone which nevertheless fell flat.

"Consider it done," said the Official as he stared at his agents.

"Does it feel any better, Darien?" asked Claire.

Darien nodded his head. "A little," he whispered.

"Okay, next step, get the bullet out," said Claire.

"Oh is that all?" whispered Darien sarcastically.

Eberts handed Alex a pair of forceps, which she nervously accepted in shaking hands. She took a calming breath to steady herself and then glanced into Darien's eyes. "I'm sorry if this hurts, but it's my first day on the job."

Darien stared up at her and nodded his head slightly. "I trust you," he whispered.

Alex nodded and then gazed down at the wound in Darien's abdomen. "All right, how do I do this exactly?" she asked, glancing at Claire.

"Use one hand to open the wound, and use the other to take out the bullet. The bullet shouldn't be too deep. I think this shot was a ricochet," answered Claire.

"Okay," she said. "Here it goes," she said as she reached down and spread the bullet wound open with the fingers of her left hand.

Darien immediately arched off the bed, his chest heaving in pain.

"Now, Alex, do it now," screamed Bobby as he began running his hand over Darien's forehead.

Alex shakily lowered the forceps above the wound. She closed her eyes for a second and cleared her head. Then she pushed the forceps into the Darien's flesh, searching desperately for the slug.

Darien screamed in pain and began whimpering like a puppy.

She pushed the sounds out of her mind and began wiggling the forceps around, searching for the bullet. A few seconds later, she heard a small click of metal and metal. "I found it, I found it," she said excitedly as she opened the wound further to see if she could spot the bullet. She could faintly make out a tiny slug sitting right next to the forceps. "Okay, almost done," she said as she moved the forceps to the left and grasped the bullet. She slowly and carefully pulled up, trying not to catch on any of Darien's internal organs. She brought the forceps fully out of his body, the bullet securely between the tongs. "Out," she said with relief as she dropped the bloody bullet on the equipment tray.

Darien moaned and then went limp, passing out from the pain.

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Bobby as he gazed with concern at his unconscious partner.

"He should be, unless an infection sets in," said Claire as she placed a soft kiss against Darien's sweat-covered forehead. "We just need to bandage him up."

Alex nodded and took the antiseptic-soaked bandages that Eberts handed her. She placed one directly over the wound and several more to the sides. The she took a large, dry bandage and placed it over the entire wound, taping it to the skin of his chest and back so it would stay on. When she was finished, she sank down to the floor, breathing a sigh of relief.

"You did good, Monroe. You saved Darien's life," said the Official as he gave her a friendly pat on the back.

Alex looked up at the Official and then burst into tears. Bobby quickly scooted next to her and brought her into his arms. "It's okay, it's okay, Alex. It's been a tough day for all of us."

Alex pushed out of his arms and wiped at her tears, shaking her head slightly. "It's not that," she whispered in slight embarrassment. "I guess I just kind of realized how much you guys mean to me," she admitted.

A surprised smile formed on Bobby's face. "Yeah well, if you hadn't already guessed, you mean a lot to us too," he said in a warm tone.

Alex laughed and sniffed away the remainder of her tears, glancing up at Claire, Eberts and the Official, who were all looking at her with slight amusement. "Don't let this new found knowledge go to your heads. I'm still going to be a pushy bitch who's less than a joy to work with."

"We wouldn't have it any other way," said Claire teasingly.

Alex smiled and then glanced up at Darien's unconscious form. "I don't suppose you would all keep this little confession a secret from our invisible man, would you?"

The group shook their heads. "Nope, not a chance," said Bobby.

"I didn't think so," she answered.

The group was interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing. Alex realized it was coming from her pocket. "That's Gatewood's phone," she said as she took it out of her pocket. She quickly ran over to Ivan and put the phone to his ear. "You say anything and your dead," she whispered menacingly as she pressed the receive button.

Ivan nodded and answered the phone. "Mr. Depp," he said. Ivan heard the distinct sound of Mr. Pitt's mechanical voice. "Aw, Mr. Depp, I've been watching the news all afternoon and have been particularly moved by the story I saw on the now defunct Agency. I want to congratulate you on a job well done."

"Thank you, sir," said Ivan into the phone.

"Now, I'm sure you're interested in your payment for this little task. Go to the abandoned shopping center on 3rd and Ocean Blvd. Wait in the old video store. Do you understand?" asked Mr. Pitt.

"Yes, sir," said Ivan.

"Good. I hope to do business with you again one day," said Mr. Pitt. Then the phone went dead.

"Shopping center on 3rd and Ocean," said Ivan as Alex took the phone away from his ear.

"Third and Ocean, I know it," said Bobby. "So how are we going to do this, chief?" he asked, glancing up at the Official.

The Official held up his hand to hold on and pulled out a cell phone, punching in a number on the keypad. "This is Borden. We need a SWAT team to rendezvous at the old shopping center at 3rd and Ocean. Tell them to hang back a few blocks so they're not spotted. Agents Bobby Hobbes and Alex Monroe will be running the show. Report back when everything is in position," said the Official. He hung up the phone and looked at Bobby and Alex. "Everything's set. Go and bust these bastards."

Bobby nodded. "With pleasure, chief," he said as he unhooked Ivan from the bed.

The Official nodded in approval. "No one messes with my agents and gets away with it," he said as he glanced at Darien's unconscious form.

"We'll get em', sir," said Alex as she collected several guns from around the room and stuck them in her waistband holster. "Ready?" she asked, glancing at Bobby and Ivan.

"Oh yeah," said Bobby. "This one's for Fawkes," he said as he pulled Ivan to his feet. Bobby, Ivan and Alex disappeared into the elevator, leaving Claire, the Official and Eberts to watch over Darien.

TBC in ACT IV


	5. ACT IV

ACT IV

Claire ran a cool washcloth over Darien's head, trying to do something to rid him of the high fever he was currently running. He had fallen into a deep sleep, but they could all tell it was anything but restful. Every couple of seconds, he would twitch and moan, sometimes mumbling nonsensical words and sentences.

"Kevin," he murmured, smacking his lips.

The Official sat down on the bed next to him, staring up at Claire with a look of worry on his face. "What's wrong with him?" he asked.

"Infection," said Claire grimly as she ran a hand down Darien's arm. "I've given him some antibiotics that should be kicking in soon, but until then…" she trailed off, motioning to Darien's pain-filled expression.

"Mom," he suddenly shouted, lurching up off the bed. Claire pushed him back down with the help of Eberts. "Don't leave me, mommy, please," he whimpered.

"Darien, calm down, sweetheart, it's just a dream," whispered Claire in his ear.

"No! Please no! Don't leave me. I don't want to live with them. Please mommy!" cried out Darien as tears started falling from his cheeks.

Claire gave the Official a startled glance. "I thought Darien's mom died?" she whispered. "I thought that's why he went to live with his aunt and uncle."

"It's just a dream," said the Official curtly.

Claire detected something odd in his tone, but shrugged it off as Darien started to moan loudly. She brought the washcloth to his face and began wiping away the tears. "Shhh, calm down, Darien, just calm down."

Finally, Darien seemed to relax against the bed. His breathing eased and he seemed to be in a genuine, restful state of sleep. Claire looked up and gave the Official a small smile. "I think it's past. He's going to be okay."

"Good," said the Official with a look of relief on his face. A few seconds later, his cell phone began to ring. He quickly picked it up and answered it. "This is him. Good, good. Keep us posted," he said, hanging up the phone.

"What's going on?" asked Eberts as he sat down on the bed next to the Official.

"Hobbes and Ms. Monroe have just arrived at the rendezvous point. Things are looking good," said the Official.

"Finally some good news," said Claire as she swept away a pesky piece of hair from Darien's forehead.

"Yeah," said the Official, nodding in agreement.

**

Bobby uncuffed Ivan and shoved him out the back of his Sedan. "Remember, you tip them off and you'll be a memory, my friend. The bug we got on the button of your jacket is undetectable in any kind of search. You get your money and then we're storming in," said Bobby.

Ivan nodded uneasily and began walking up the street towards the shopping center.

"You sure this is a good idea?" asked Alex.

"Like I trust that little punk. We're tailing him and then we're gonna break up the party before it can get started," said Bobby as he stuck his gun in his holster.

Alex smiled widely. "Sometimes you really surprise me."

Bobby cocked his head to the side with a large grin on his face. "Stick around sweetheart, I'm full of surprises."

Alex rolled her eyes in amusement and joined Bobby in getting out of the Sedan. Bobby picked up a small hand held radio and turned it on. "Hef to the bunnies, Hef to the bunnies, come in, over," he said into the radio.

"This is the bunnies, what's your sig. rep?" said a voice on the other end.

"We're tailing our man in. You wait for my signal and then you bust in with guns drawn. Give us two minutes and follow us in the truck. You copy, over?" said Bobby.

"Copy, over and it," said the voice.

Alex looked at Bobby with a raised eyebrow. "Hef to the bunnies?" she said in a slightly annoyed tone.

Bobby shrugged innocently. "What?"

Alex shook her head. "Never mind. Come on," she said as she started jogging down the street.

Bobby followed her and they both jogged in silence for a block until they reached the outskirts of the shopping center. They both stopped at the corner to catch their breath and cock their weapons. They eyed the video store, which was about a 100 yards away. Bobby took out his radio again and turned it to channel three. He put it up to his ear and listened closely. "Two hundred thousand dollars each," he heard someone say. "My employer is very pleased. He would thank you personally, but unfortunately, he doesn't want his identity compromised. Perhaps, we will have another job for you talented men one day."

Bobby switched the radio to channel five. "Go, it's a go," he shouted into the radio. He and Alex started in a dead sprint towards the video store, their guns drawn and ready to fire. The sound of screeching tires, followed by the sound of stomping feet told them that the SWAT team was right on their heels. 

Bobby switched the radio back to channel three to hear what was going on inside. He heard a few desperate shouts from several men, including one that had to have come from Ivan. "No!" he heard Ivan scream. "I'm sorry, these are my instructions under these circumstances," he heard another voice say.

Suddenly, the video store exploded, sending a huge fireball up in the air and knocking everyone to the ground. Smoke filled the air as the rest of the shopping center caught on fire. 

Bobby and Alex slowly picked themselves off the ground after the shock of what had happened wore off. They both sat on the ground in a daze, giving one another confused looks while the SWAT members milled around them, giving orders and calling police and fire units. After a few minutes, Bobby reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, dialing the Official's number. "Sir, uh…I've got good news and bad news."

The Official, who was pacing around the bunker, sighed heavily. "Give me the bad news."

"Um, all the assassins are dead," he answered.

"What's the good news?" the Official mumbled.

"All the assassins are dead," answered Bobby. "Which means we got the bad guys, we just don't know who they were working for," he said as he stood up and gazed at the blazing inferno in front of them.

The Official grumbled. "All right. Wrap things up there and meet us back at the Agency." The Official paused for a moment and went on. "Good work, Hobbes. Tell Monroe the same."

"Will do, chief. How's Fawkes doing?" he asked.

The Official glanced down at Darien's peacefully sleeping form and a smile formed on his face. "Just fine," he answered.

"Best news I've heard all day, sir. Bye," he said as he hung up the phone. He glanced at Alex and gave her a big smile. "We done good, Monroe."

Alex smiled and nodded as the pair observed the arrival of police and fire trucks. They glanced at one another and both began to laugh. "Aw crap," they both said simultaneously.

TBC in the tag


	6. Tag

TAG

"What did they find, Eberts?" asked Alex curiously from her position next to Darien's hospital bed, which Claire had set up in Lab two of the Agency. Claire was sitting next to her, cleaning Darien's bullet wound with some sort of ointment that was causing Darien to flinch away in pain. Bobby and the Official hovered over them, both seemingly grossed out by Claire's ministrations on Darien. 

Eberts glanced at the wound and then looked away, turning his attention to the file folder in his hands. "Coroner has identified the bodies of James Pitney, Robert Blair, Daniel Ketterer, Chip Sinclaire, William Ray and Ivan Gatewood. They also found another body that has yet to be identified. We assume that this man was their contact."

Darien, who was recovering from the cleansing of his wound, spoke up. "This shouldn't be so hard guys, I mean come on, we haven't pissed off that many people."

"Problem is Fawkes, we got no proof connecting the mastermind to our assassination attempts," said Bobby.

The Official nodded. "That's right. We can confirm the involvement of the assassins, but since Gatewood never knew who he was working for, we've got nothing."

"Which means who ever did this could try it again," said Alex.

"That's right," said the Official. "So I'm beefing up security for awhile. You will have people watching your houses at night and the security measures at the Agency will be much tighter until we can figure out who the scum is that tried to kill us."

Bobby raised his hand. "Chief, I've got a question. What about our vehicles? I mean Golda was pretty much vaporized in the shootout, and I believe Monroe's car was damaged as well."

Alex shook her head. "Oh no, it's okay, I've already got a new one coming."

Bobby nearly choked. "New one?"

Alex nodded. "Yes, and I've arranged for your van to be repaired as well, Bobby."

Claire couldn't hide the look of amusement on her face.

"Repaired?" repeated Bobby. "Couldn't ya, you know, shell out some dough for a new one?"

Alex shook her head. "Nice try, Bobby."

Darien laughed. "It was a valiant attempt, my friend."

"Easy for you to say, your car wasn't turned into Swiss cheese," said Bobby.

Claire raised her good arm in the air. "Kids, I think we should leave so Darien can get some rest."

The group nodded. 

"I'll catch you later, Fawkesy," said Bobby as he gave his partner a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks for everything, man," said Darien. "Actually, thanks to all of you. You all saved my life."

"Nonsense son, we didn't want to see a good agent go down before his time," said the Official. "Eberts, we have cleaning to do," he said as he walked out of the room. Eberts nodded towards Darien and followed the Official out of the room.

Alex started to walk out of the room before Darien stopped her with his arm. "Alex, I just want to say, you know, thanks for everything."

Alex's face softened and she leaned down and placed a kiss on a very shocked Darien's cheek. "My pleasure," she said as she followed a flabbergasted Bobby out of the room.

Darien gazed up at Claire and smiled widely. "Alone at last," he said.

Claire nodded and sat down next his bed, a slightly troubled look on her face.

"Keep, what's up?" he asked.

Claire took a deep breath and let it out. "Darien, do you remember anything from your fever dreams after we took out the bullet?"

Darien shook his head. "No why? Did I say something embarrassing?"

Claire smiled and shook her head. "Never mind, it's nothing. Try and get some sleep."

"Keep," said Darien with his eyebrows raised. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, I promise. Get some rest," she said as she brushed his hair away from his face and switched the light off.

"Fine. Night, Claire," mumbled Darien sleepily.

"Goodnight, Darien," said Claire. She watched him sleep for a few minutes and then slowly walked out of the room, shrugging off thoughts of Darien's feverish outbursts.

**

"Bastards," he yelled in anger as he pounded the six pictures against his desk one by one, cursing as he passed by each of their faces. They had done it again. Once again, the Agency had managed to defeat Jared Stark.

The assassination plan was to have been his revenge against Darien for constantly ruining his plans and schemes and also a way to get back in the good graces of Chrysalis. He had failed miserably on all accounts and had also lost one of his best men. But he still held one more trick up his sleeve.

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a picture of an older woman. She was stunningly gorgeous with deep brown hair, high cheekbones and full, luscious lips. But the eyes were the give away. Jared lined the photo of the woman up with the picture of Darien and marveled at the matching set of eyes the mother and son shared. Sarah Fawkes was his ace in the hole; a way to not only destroy the Agency, but to destroy Darien Fawkes as well. It would be perfect. 

After a few more seconds of staring, he put the picture back in the drawer and sighed with slight content. It could wait. He had all the time in the world.

That's All Folks


End file.
